The Parting Glass
by Scarydory2
Summary: Maerad Cassel had grown up in the relative safety of Winterfell, working as a stable hand and spending her free time with the Stark children. However, when the King brings haunting news and takes Ned Stark south, Maerad is plunged into a world that she never wanted to live. Robb/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Good morrow! So this idea just came to me while watching an interview with Richard Madden, who plays Robb Stark. I'm completely obsessed with Game of Thrones at the moment. Some of the details I have completely made up just to suite the story and I have changed a lot of the storyline for this story to work and actually have a finish point somewhere along the line. **

**It mostly follows the storyline of the TV series but there are certain points that are in the books and not in the TV show that I have included.**

**Anyway! Hope you enjoy. Please R&R! TEAM WOLF!**

**Disclaimer: All content other than my OCs belong to George RR Martin and HBO. **

Chapter 1

Maerad Cassel threw the bucket in her hand into the nearby shed, grinning as she turned and headed out of the stables. Her smile widened as she stepped into one of many of Winterfell's open areas. She inhaled the smell of smoke from the Smiths next to her, listening to the harsh sounds of a hammer imprinting on hot metal. Maerad paused and watched as the men and women rushed by, all with serious expressions, clearly with somewhere important to be. Many probably still had errands left to complete for the day.

Maerad closed her eyes, breathing in the putrid smells and loving every bit of the hectic atmosphere. It was days like this that she was proud to be from the North. She didn't care for fancy clothes or warm weather, or ladies in revealing dresses like the lifestyle of the other six kingdoms. Maerad much preferred the chill that hung in the air constantly, even during the long summers and the winter-hardened men with their rough hands and loud, bellowing laughs. Sure it could be barbaric sometimes, but it was home. Winterfell, of the House Stark was the only place she knew. And she knew it well.

Maerad idly made her way through the muddy streets, occasionally nodding hello to a familiar face. Her boots sloshed in the mud and her clothes were caked in dirt but she barely noticed. Her clothes were hardly expensive. In fact, the only expensive thing she owned was a leather bracelet with a direwolf indented in it. It had been a gift from Robb – the direwolf was a House sigil that they both shared, the Cassel House had ten white wolf heads, arrangeed as 4-3-2-1, on grey with a black border; the Stark's was a grey direwolf racing across a field of white. The only other jewellery that she owned was a 16th name day present from her father. It was a necklace with her sigil engraved on the underside. It wasn't anything special, but it was the thought that counted.

Maerad made her way towards the training grounds that everyone used for fight practice. She knew they would be there. It was rare if there weren't training. Maerad had affectionately named them the 'troublesome trio' after the many escapades that they used to have as children.

She heard them first. The familiar sounds of wood clashing with wood. As she turned the corner, she saw a man fall to the ground and heard the delighted shouts from two bystanders. Maerad recognised them as Theon and Jon simply from their stances. Theon Greyjoy was stood almost squarely towards Jon, giving him a bigger target. He sat low in his stance and evenly weighted, prepared to either strike or defend. His fighting style was much more about strength and momentum behind his sword.

Jon was almost completely the opposite. He stood side on, barely crouched at all, more like he was on tiptoes and he delicately placed each foot perfectly around him. His style was much more relaxed and admittedly more flamboyant. Jon was better, but he was too sure of himself. This is why Theon had just knocked him to the ground when Maerad had entered.

Robb and Bran were the first to spot her. They were both leaning on the fence at the side-lines, laughing giddily at Jon's fall. Bran, the younger of the two, saw her and eagerly waved her over, calling her name. This action made Robb turn, his fiery hair flaming in the sun. He smiled widely when he saw her.

Maerad reached them quickly and was about to hug Robb when Bran jumped into her arms.

"Oh, Bran!" She wheezed, "You're getting too big for this!"

Bran simply nuzzled his face into her neck. His nose was pleasantly warm against her bare neck. Maerad ruffled his hair and he let go. Before she had time to recover, Robb pulled her into a strong embrace.

"Glad you could finally join us," He whispered in her ear. Maerad caught herself before her knees buckled at the sound of his voice. There was some kind of connection between them that she just couldn't explain. It wasn't just raw, physical heat between them; he made her feel comfortable and safe.

"I wouldn't miss Jon losing for the world." She replied as the two let go of each other. Something in Bran's eyes made her feel as though they had held each other for just a little too long. Maerad blushed under the brother's gaze. The three of them exchanged awkward looks. They quickly turned back to the competition in front of them. Jon had witnessed the entire thing and waved at her before setting his eyes back on Theon. The boys –Theon, Robb and Jon – were fiercely competitive and Maerad knew Jon wouldn't go down without a fight. Theon simply ignored her presence and continued to tease Jon with harsh remarks.

"Jon will beat Theon. Without a doubt." Bran declared next to her. Robb and Maerad exchanged a sly glance.

"Are you sure about that, little lord?" Maerad let her brown eyes fall on Bran questioningly. Bran nodded curtly. Maerad smiled.

"Care to make it interesting?" Bran met her challenging gaze. He nodded again.

"How about 5 Gold Dragons!" Bran exclaimed. Maerad laughed, astonished.

"I'm no noble Bran! I can barely afford to lose 1 Gold Dragon." She saw the glint in his eye and her face became serious again, "Fine. I hope you are prepared to lose." Maerad turned back to the competition. Robb seemed to have a grin permanently plastered on his face.

"Jon is by far a better swordsman." Bran stated, puffing out his chest at the pride in knowing something 'grown-up'.

Maerad nodded gravely, "Yes. The Hare was a better runner though and yet didn't win the race."

Bran silently pondered this. Maerad could practically see his 9-year-old brain ticking. Maerad winked at Robb, who shook his head. He was used to her antics by now.

The two had grown up together and barely spent a second apart. Maerad counted herself lucky to have such close proximity to a Great House family. The only reason for this was that the Cassel's and Stark's both had deep, intertwining roots. Her father, Jory Cassel, was Captain of the Guards here at Winterfell. They were not knights, the North rarely knighted anyone. They were, however, tasked with the same responsibilities that the Kingsguard would have, only protecting Lord Ned Stark instead of a king. Her Great Uncle, ser Rodrick Cassel was master-at-arms and castellan of Winterfell. Maerad wasn't completely sure what this meant he did. All she knew was that he and her father spent every day working beside Lord Stark himself. Over her 17 years, this meant she had grown up running around the ancient castle with Robb Stark and Jon Snow nipping at her heels. The Stark's treated her like family, an honour that a peasant girl like herself didn't deserve.

Bran sighed, "Okay, I don't understand."

Maerad kept her gaze steady on the two boys in front of her.

"Watch closely. Jon is a better swordsman, yes. But he is arrogant. He knows he is better and that is what makes him worse," Bran exchanged a look with Robb. Robb simply shook his head and told him silently to listen and watch. The two boys continued to spar ferociously in front of them.

"See here. Jon is going to try and take out Theon's front leg, now, to knock him off balance. Theon will move quicker and take out the side that Jon left unguarded." She paused as the fighting in front of them went exactly as she predicted. Bran's mouth fell open.

"Shut your mouth Bran or you'll catch flies." Maerad scolded. Bran did as he was told.

"That's also another reason why standing side on isn't always best." Robb joined the conversation.

"So what is the best way to stand?"

"None." Maerad and Robb chimed in unison. Bran looked shocked.

"The best way, is no way. Never put yourself in the position where you need to fight." Maerad allowed Robb to take over as she watched Theon knock Jon to the floor for the last time, "And if you do, find your own way of standing. One that suits your style and means that you can beat the fool that tried to battle a Stark." Bran smiled and Robb winked at him. Maerad simply rolled her eyes.

"Of course, because Starks are the best swordfighters to have ever graced the land." Theon chimed sarcastically. Maerad groaned inwardly.

"Relax, Theon." Robb sighed. Theon snapped his head to glare at Robb, stupidly challenging him. Bran interrupted before Theon could reply.

"Does this mean I lost the bet?" Theon and Jon exchanged a confused look.

"Yes it does, little lord. Hand it over." Maerad's face went stone cold with seriousness and she gestured stiffly with her hand. Bran sighed and reached into his pocket. His face dropped instantly.

"What's wrong?" Maerad frowned.

Bran glanced to his feet and started shuffling them uncomfortably, "Well, I... Uhm. I don't have enough." He avoided Maerad's icy glare.

"Pay me what you can and get me the rest later," Maerad shrugged. She honestly wasn't taking this quite so seriously.

Bran nodded and looked over her shoulder at Robb. Maerad turned away, rolling her eyes as Theon finally caught up with the conversation.

"Wait. You betted that I would lose?" Maerad met his cold eyes with a lazily glance.

"Correction. Bran bet that you would lose."

"Why?"

Maerad sighed. She was closer to these nobles than to her neighbours but she still couldn't stand Theon Greyjoy. Maerad could easily list 10 things that she hated about him. He was crude, big-headed and acted as if he was entitled to everything. This apparently included all the available women of the North, hence why whores called him the Squid behind his back – only a stab at his House sigil. She could appreciate that it must have been hard to be taken away from his family at such a young age and forced to live with a family of strangers, one of whom tried to kill your own father. But Maerad couldn't shake the feeling that Theon would turn against the Starks for even the slightest bribe. She could only dream about what would happen if his own father asked him to turn against the Starks. That worried Maerad deeply and had developed over the years into hatred. A point that hadn't gone unnoticed by Theon and he not-so-graciously returned the sentiment. Still, she put up with him because he was Robb's best friend – not that she understood why.

Robb tried to relax his friend, "It doesn't matter, Theon. You won anyway, right?"

Theon shook his head vehemently, "You people don't think I'm better than Jon?" Jon's eyes widened at his name being mentioned.

"Well, no. Because you aren't." Maerad put it bluntly.

Theon scowled at her while Jon chuckled proudly to himself. Theon raised his wooden sword to her head slowly.

"If you think you know so much, _whore_," Theon spat, "Why don't you come and teach me a lesson?"

Maerad felt her anger rising. Not to mention the bile in her throat at the multitude of innuendos that Theon would surely have thought of. As if to answer her thought, Theon smiled grimly.

Beside her she felt Robb stiffen. Jon joined in.

"Yeah, Maerad. Teach Theon how to fight properly." Jon winked and passed her his wooden sword.

Robb laughed, the sound not matching the emotion of his glare at Theon, "I don't think we have enough time for that."

Maerad laughed too and Theon's eyes glazed coldly. His expression remained deadly serious as he carefully watched Maerad jump the railing effortlessly and stride towards him.

Maerad gripped the sword hilt like her father had taught; lightly for able movement but firm between the thumb and forefinger so as to not drop it. She could almost picture him whispering instructions in her ear like he used to when they were younger.

From the side-lines, Bran watched eagerly. "What's Maerad's fighting stance like then?" Bran had noticed that she stood exactly how she did when simply walking around Winterfell.

Robb and Jon grinned, "That is her stance," Robb whispered, "Her father taught her that the best fighters can win even when they aren't ready. So her told her to stand straight and relaxed, as if walking around in the godswood."

Bran nodded, storing the information and examining every detail.

Maerad and Theon circled each other slowly, placing each foot gently on the muddy surface.

Suddenly, Theon shouted and burst forward, bringing his sword up above his head to slam down on her top half. Maerad watched it calmly the whole way and easily dodged with a small step to the right. As he barrelled past – missing her completely – she slammed her sword on his spine with a tiny, swift flick of her wrist. Theon bellowed at the pain.

Their audience cheered with delight. Robb laughed at Theon's angry face. Out of the corner of his eye, Robb saw a glint of metal. He turned to see Maerad's father, Jory Cassel, leaning lazily on the railing with a smile spread across his face. Jory sensed eyes on him and met Robb's squarely. Blue eyes on blue eyes. Jory nodded and turned back to his daughter.

Maerad dodged another identical attack from Theon, this time aiming her sword at the back of his knees. Theon gritted his teeth, readying himself to go again. Theon lifted his sword to the right, going for a side swipe. Maerad seized this opportunity to strike first and quickly sprang forwards, slamming her sword into his chest. Theon collapsed to his knees, winded. Maerad hadn't finished yet though. As she passed him, she span and swatted his neck with the flat edge of her sword.

Bored, Maerad turned and headed towards the three watching. She noticed with a smile that they were all wearing different expressions. Bran was in total awe. His eyes were wide and mouth was ajar. Jon was virtually expressionless. Jon had had a hard time beating Theon and clearly didn't like that she had done it so easily. Maerad winked at Bran. Robb's face was much better. He was smiling broadly and he had a strange glint in his strikingly blue eyes. She looked at him questioningly. He said nothing, simply jerked his head to her left. She followed his indication and spotted a man wearing full armour, leaning on the fence. She squinted against the sun and quickly kicked herself for not noticing who it was beforehand.

Dropping her sword, Maerad ran towards her father. It was rare for him to get any time free to see her, so Maerad was naturally suspicious. Maerad hurdled the fence easily and leaped into her father's arms. He huffed loudly, as she had done when Bran had done the same.

"Mae, you're hurting my shoulders."

"Sorry." She released him, "I forgot how constricting your armour is."

Jory smiled and waved his hand dismissively.

"That was impressive. Carry on like that and you'll have me out of a job." They laughed.

"Seriously. What's going on?"

"Can a man not come and watch his daughter and only child embarrass the heir to the Iron Islands. I never get to see you."

"That's exactly my point. You never get to see me unless it's really important. Which usually means nothing good." Jory sighed.

"You need to stop sounding so much like your mother." Maerad saw a flash of sadness in her father's eyes and felt a pang of sympathy for him. Maerad was told constantly that she looked so much like her mother. Maerad could only just remember her. She had been a handmaid to Lady Catelyn Stark. She had died when Maerad was 11 from the influenza. Maerad could see on her father's face how much it pained him whenever her name was mentioned. He hid it well, but Maerad knew him too well. And now she was starting to look exactly like her. The same dark, tousled brown hair and deep brown eyes and the same olive coloured skin. Maerad could only imagine the pain he must feel inside every time he looked at his daughter.

"A deserter from the Night's Watch has been found." Maerad's heart caught in her throat.

"Go and help Caine to prepare the horses." Maerad nodded and started to walk away. "And Bran's too." Maerad froze, mid-stride. She span around and marched back to her father.

"Bran? He's only nine!"

"So were Robb and Jon the first time." Maerad saw in his eyes that he didn't agree with it either. Maerad let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, Maerad. Ned thinks Bran is ready, so Bran is going too. Period." With that, Jory turned and stormed over to Robb and the others.

Maerad watched them closely. Jon and Theon reacted least. They simply turned away and headed towards the main gate, to wait for their horses. Robb's first reaction was to look at his little brother. He looked terrified. Something unreadable to Maerad flashed in Robb's eyes. A mixture of grief and sadness. He regained his composure and ushered the frozen Bran out of the training yard.

With a sigh, Maerad dutifully ran to the stables.

**Please Review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After watching Lord Stark's party leave, making sure that Bran was okay and securely saddled, Maerad made her way to Arya's chambers. Arya, the youngest Stark daughter, should have been in lessons with her Septa. Maerad had gone there first, only to be told by a very disgruntled Septa Mordane that Arya was claiming to be "unwell" and refusing to come to her sewing lesson. At this, Maerad had laughed and received an angry scowl from the Septa. Sansa offered that she should try her chambers, saying that it was easier to avoid her parents by not walking around in - quite literally - their hallways. Maerad had quickly thanked her and departed, seeking out the little tomboy.

Maerad knocked on Arya's door, announcing herself. She heard light footsteps from inside the room and within a second, the heavy wooden door was swung open. Maerad glanced down to see bright, grey eyes staring back at her. Arya's face flashed with recognition and she jumped with glee.

"Calm down, Underfoot." Maerad smiled and let herself in. With anyone else, it would have been extremely rude and disrespectful for Maerad, a stable hand, to just walk into a Lady's chambers without being invited. But with Arya, it was perfectly normal. Arya wasn't exactly a perfect lady and probably wouldn't have thought about the common courtesies when it came to her friends. That, and the fact that Arya considered Maerad to be her older sister, meant that all policies as far as Arya was concerned, went out the window with Maerad around.

Inside, Maerad took her usual spot on the window ledge, perching easily with one leg tucked underneath her.

"Sansa tells me that you bailed on sewing?" Maerad raised one eyebrow at the 11-year-old. Arya scoffed in disgust and flopped onto her bed.

"Septa Mordane is a horrible little woman, who doesn't understand that _I _don't want to be a lady!"

"Careful," Maerad warned, her voice taking an authoritative edge, "She may not understand you but you cannot go around insulting people." Arya huffed and crossed her arms defiantly.

Changing the subject, Maerad asked, "If you aren't going to be a lady, what will you be instead?" Arya paused and her face scrunched up as she thought carefully, before suddenly springing up from the bed.

"I want to be like you!" Arya exclaimed, grinning broadly.

Maerad was taken aback, "A stable hand?"

"No silly!" Arya waved her hands around frantically as she searched for the words to describe what she really meant, "I want to be the best sword fighter in Westeros. I want to be one of Robb's banner-men. Or would it be banner-women?" Maerad laughed, "Are there any banner-women?"

"I don't know, Underfoot. You're the one with the lessons. Even though you never seem to pay attention." Arya frowned and sat on the bed once more.

"Mother doesn't like to see me fighting." Arya's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.

"I know."

"But why? Every lady should learn to defend herself. She'd be no use otherwise."

"Lady Catelyn is a smart woman. She knows, better than most, what a lady should and shouldn't do." Maerad watched Arya's face drop, "Besides, I think your mother is more offended when you don't go to your lessons."

Arya's eyes glinted but she said nothing. The conversation ran dry and the room became deathly quiet.

Maerad turned her head to look out of the window. Below, she could see the butcher, brutally carving up a carcass. From the first floor window, Maerad could see past the castle walls and all the way across the plains to the Wolfswood. Maerad felt something internally tugging her towards the woods. There was something alluring about the way the trees swayed gracefully in the wind and the darkness that the canopies created. If she was outside, Maerad could be sure that she would hear the sounds of tree leaves rattling and the birds calling one another.

"Arya?" Maerad didn't turn to look at her, "Feel like going for a ride?"

Maerad finally turned to face Arya with a cheeky grin on her face and glint in her eye. She saw from the look on Arya's face that she agreed.

* * *

Down in the stables, Arya mostly watched as Maerad prepared the horses. She gave Arya her usual horse and let her get on herself. It was a calm mare and was perfect for a beginner rider.

After saddling her own horse, the two headed out of the East gate and towards the Wolfswood. They rode mostly in silence until they were clear of the open ground and into the woods. Under the trees it could be quite dark and to an untrained eye, it would be easy to get lost. Arya was less experienced due to her age and so Maerad led the way. They slowed their horses to a walk and Arya pulled her horse next to Maerad's.

"That's a really lovely horse, Mae. Is it yours?" Arya feigned interest. Maerad smiled. Arya wasn't fond of silences, whereas Maerad found them peaceful.

"He," Maerad stroked the dark horse gently, "is a born fighting horse. A war horse. He was my grandfather's." Arya nodded. She had heard of Maerad's grandfather. He had been a popular man and was loved by many people in Winterfell. He had died a long time ago and Arya had never gotten to meet him but her father spoke highly of him when mentioned. Maerad had lost a lot of family members and Arya knew that when her grandfather died, Jory had given the horse to his wife. After her death, Jory had passed it on to Maerad. The horse was very old now but he was still going strong. Maerad felt a deep connection to the horse and Arya thought it was understandable that she would continue to ride it even past it's prime days.

The horse would probably never see another battle but as long as he was able, he would be Maerad's mount. Caine understood and so never argued with her choice. Robb did however. He thought that it was a bad idea to ride him if he could possibly collapse halfway into the woods, giving Maerad no way back and no mount. Maerad simply argued that any horse could go lame. He was a strong horse, a dark chestnut with a white stripe on his nose. Moat. It wasn't exactly a typical war horse name but Moat served the Cassels, much like a moat protects a castle.

They carried on at a snail's pace, Arya eagerly quizzing Maerad with an array of questions; from her favourite bed time story, to her mother's family. It kept them both in good spirits, laughing at each other.

Arya put on a serious face, "Are you and Robb going to get married?"

Maerad pulled Moat to a halt.

"What gave you that idea?" Maerad felt her cheeks flush.

Arya giggled, "The fact that you blush every time someone mentions him." Maerad's hand flew up to her face, "Don't worry about it, your bright red cheeks are barely noticeable." Arya winked. Maerad huffed in defeat and moved her horse forward again.

"No."

"No? That's it?" Arya was shocked. She then realised that Maerad was already disappearing into the forest. She kicked her horse into a trot, "But you and Robb are perfect for each other! Everyone knows that!"

Arya pulled her horse next to Maerad's as she sighed, "Robb will be Lord of Winterfell someday. His - _Your _Father will want to marry him off to some pretty, little rich lady. I'm afraid there are no swords in all of Westeros that could assist me with that fight."

"Robb won't stand for it. He could-"

"Robb won't have a choice."

Arya went silent once more, searching for some kind of response that wouldn't make things possibly worse. She settled on flattery.

"You are 10 times prettier than any of those Southern girls. And you're more intelligent, and a better fighter than most men..."

"Arya!" Maerad cut her off, laughing at her lousy attempts, "None of that matters."

Sensing the conversation had ended, Arya made a mental note to complain about this later to her Father. He would listen, she figured, more than her Mother would. Arya's father had always been more understanding when it came to his children. He had learnt from his previous mistakes and no longer took his family for granted.

Maerad announced that it was probably best that they went home. The sun had almost set behind the trees, lighting the sky in a magnificent red-orange colour. They navigated their horses through the woods quickly, Maerad taking the lead once more. Once they had Winterfell in their sights, they pushed the horses into a steady gallop. Maerad would have hell to pay if Arya wasn't home before night fell. Throughout the whole journey, Maerad couldn't help but think how awkward it could be between her and Robb from now on.

* * *

**A couple of days later.**

Maerad was sat in the stables, cleaning off the last saddle of the day. She looked up and sighed. The room was quiet, the horses rarely made much noise but the smell was horrific. Maerad was used to it by now but it had just sank in, after looking down at her manure-caked trousers, that she had a truly disgusting job.

Over the past two days, the stables had been quiet, barely any large parties going out. This meant Caine had been able to send her off to other parts of Winterfell that needed extra help. Maerad didn't really mind, it gave her a chance to interact with other Winterfell servants and to see her old friends. This time she had been sent to the kitchens and they kept much less flexible hours than Caine. It meant she had to be there, slaving over a fire for nearly 12 hours straight. The only benefit, other than sneaking a bite every now and then when the other staff weren't looking, was that she hadn't had a single run-in with Robb. After her talk in the Wolfswood with Arya, Maerad didn't know if she could face him.

But now she was back in the stables with flexible hours and the smallest number of chores known to man. She was nearly finished for the day and she was sure it was barely noon. No doubt a run-in with Robb was imminent.

Maerad heard a rustle from the door behind her.

"Bran's been looking for you." Maerad jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Seven Hells!" Maerad spun to face him, masking her face with a smile. Robb didn't. His face gave away nothing but his eyes said it all. Robb was upset with her. She could see his mouth twitch, wanting to smile. She knew he was finding it difficult to stay angry at her. She figured that was maybe a good thing. The silence extended between them as they stared at each other, hundreds of emotions dancing across Robb's eyes - and Maerad was sure hers were as well.

A small howl broke their thoughts.

"What does Bran want?" Maerad asked, turning back to the saddle to purposely avoid eye contact with Robb.

"Nothing." Robb crouched to the direwolf and ruffled the fur on it's back, "I just wanted a reason to come and talk to you."

Maerad gulped. She knew what he was talking about but found herself asking him anyway, "Why did you need a reason?"

"You seriously need to ask that? Really, Mae?" Robb's voice took a harsh turn, "You've been avoiding me. What did I do wrong?" Maerad sensed him take a step towards her and noticed the pain etched into his voice as he asked. Still, she refused to look at him.

"Maerad."

He crouched in front of her.

"Please."

Maerad sighed and stood up.

"Not here. Let's go for a walk." Robb's eyebrows twitched but he nodded.

Neither said a word but both knew where they were going. The Godswood. There they wouldn't be bothered and their conversation could be watched over silently by the Old Gods.

The direwolf pup wandered by Robb's side, never venturing too far from Robb. The walk was short and as soon as Robb closed the gate behind them, he turned on Maerad. He didn't utter a word, simply fixed her with a cool, iron glare. His eyes said one thing: _Speak._

"I wasn't avoiding you, Robb." Maerad took a deep breath. She had no idea how she was going to tell Robb her fears. Robb raised one eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. Sorry. Yes, I was avoiding you." Maerad diverted her gaze.

"Why? What did I do?" Robb's voice was soft, a stark contrast to the look in his eyes. He clearly didn't want it to seem like he was upset, but Maerad knew him better than that.

"Nothing. You did nothing wrong." Maerad sighed, grasping for the words, "It's just Arya and I were talking the other day and... and.." Maerad flushed, "She asked if we were going to marry one day."

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see Robb's reaction. She heard a soft crunch as Robb shuffled around.

"What did you say?" Maerad looked up at him. She saw the pain in his eyes and she knew he already knew what she had said.

"I said no." She saw a flash of disappointment in Robb's eyes but it was quickly replaced by understanding. Robb was no fool. He knew that his Mother planned to auction him off to the highest bidder. The silence grew awkward as neither knew what to do with themselves.

The cold wind whipped at their faces like angry tree vines. Maerad brushed a strand of dark brown hair out of her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Maerad spotted Robb's direwolf playing with a tree root. He grasped at it with his tiny, razor sharp teeth and then pummelled it with his hind legs. Robb laughed quietly beside her and she realised he was watching the pup too. Maerad broke the bubble of silence.

"Have you got a name for him yet?"

Robb glanced sideways at her. She saw a corner of his lip turn up in the beginnings of a grin. He was glad of the distraction from their thoughts too.

"No. I thought maybe you could help me."

Maerad glanced around the Godswood, searching for inspiration. As she thought, another gust of wind barraged the pair - stronger this time - forcing Maerad sideways and even closer to Robb. He didn't even flinch. She figured he had gotten over the whole marriage debacle.

"How about Grey Wind?" Robb gave her a quizical look, "Well his fur is grey and it's really windy." Maerad rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Robb regarded her with a smile dancing across his face. He was glad to see that she was acting more like her usual bubbly self.

He nodded, "Grey Wind it is."

They shared a smile and Maerad achingly remembered what life was like when they were children. Carefree, everyday an adventure and they would fill the halls of Winterfell with their laughter and footsteps. They never had to think about the future back then. Now, that was all Robb was allowed to think about. All his life had been preparing him for the day when he would have to take over from Lord Stark. Not that Ned appeared to be looking to retire anytime soon. Eventually, Robb would be Lord and he would no longer be allowed to just let go and go for a ride in the Wolfswood with a stablehand. He wouldn't have time for childhood friends. He wouldn't have time for Jon, his bastard brother. He wouldn't have time for Maerad.

Maerad turned away to watch Grey Wind rolling in the dirt. Robb must have noticed a change in her face as he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Robb Stark!" A voice interrupted their moment and Maerad jumped in surprise. Robb turned around calmly to regard the newcomer. His face dropped immediately. Maerad followed his gaze. A small and aesthetically unpleasing man was running through the gate and towards the pair of them at an outrageous speed.

Robb sighed in annoyance, "Thron!" The man froze.

"Yes?" Maerad saw Robb internally groan. Whoever this man was, he wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the castle.

"Respect, Thron. You are in the Godswood. Treat it with respect." Robb scolded.

"Ah, of course Lord Stark." Thron now began walking at a ridiculous pace, almost in slow motion.

Robb raked a hand down his face.

"Lord Stark is my father. It's just Robb."

"Ah of course, Robb." Thron continued to creep slowly towards them.

"What do you want, Thron!" Robb was getting impatient now. Maerad supressed a giggle.

"Your father-"

"Lord Stark, to you." Maerad interrupted, enjoying watching the man squirm. Robb flashed a glare in her direction. She knew what he meant, _like you can really talk. _Maerad raised her hands in defeat.

"Sorry Ma'am.. or M'lady.. uhm," Thron stumbled over his words, "Lord Stark wishes to see you, Robb."

"And he is where?" Robb was becoming more and more agitated.

"Oh right! He's in his chambers."

"Thank you, Thron." Maerad heard him mutter, "I think," under his breath. Robb expected the man to leave after his message had been delivered. Instead, he just stood there, grinning stupidly. Robb and Maerad exchanged a sly smile.

"You can leave now, Thron." Robb watched him bow awkwardly and waited for him to waddle away, before they both burst into laughter. They carried on laughing until their sides hurt and tears were streaming down their face.

"I should probably go." Robb faked a smile.

"Yeah, me too."

"I'll walk you to.. uh.. Wherever it is that you're going." They both laughed.

"No it's fine. I'll probably head back to the stables anyway." Robb nodded. They both remained still for a minute longer, neither of them wanting to be the first to move. Before Maerad could react, Robb quickly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. He was suprisingly gentle and Maerad hugged him back, glad that things finally felt normal between them.

Robb said his goodbyes and left, Grey Wind trotting happily by his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/NSorry this took a while to get out, I've been enjoying my break from school and after the season ended I didn't have as much of a weekly inspiration as usual. So this chapter is a little bit short and boring but it will get better soon, I promise! **

Chapter 3

"The King? Here in Winterfell?" Maerad gave Caine a wary look, fearing that he was tricking her, " The King is coming to Winterfell? The King here in Winterfell?"

Caine sighed, "No matter how many times you say it, it never stops being true."

"But.. Why?"

Caine rubbed his beard in mocking wise-ness, "Ah, so many questions for a mind so innocent."

Caine bent over to dip his sponge into the bucket. He was stood in the yard outside the stable, sponging down one of the horses. Maerad punched him in the arm playfully.

"Whoever said I was innocent?" Maerad joked along. Caine raised an eyebrow and smirked. He could tell she was joking, she had a tell.

"Was that another question?"

Maerad rolled her eyes, admitting defeat. Caine was much wittier than her. To most, Caine would appear to be a simple, jolly stable manager. Those that knew him, however, weren't so quick to judge him. Caine could be complicated; He could be the happiest person one moment, and the next be grinding his teeth on the souls of stupid, little stableboys. Not Maerad, though. Caine treated her much more kindly than any of the other stablehands. Probably because she had more brain cells than all of them combined. He was a great man, in Maerad's opinion and she viewed him almost as a crazy uncle. But although he liked to joke around, he took his responsibilities very seriously. Maerad didn't consider him as old, yet she knew he was at least her Great Uncle's age.

As she thought over Caine's words, she quickly realised that things in Winterfell were about to change. Temporarily, Maerad would have to make herself scarce around the Stark children. No doubt, there were only a handful of reasons why King Baratheon would come this far North. Maerad didn't see any of them as a good thing. With the arrival of the King in just a few days, Maerad's liberties around Winterfell would surely be knocked back. It meant that, out of politeness to the King and Queen, Maerad wouldn't see the Starks much during their visit. Hopefully, the younger Starks would understand; but it would need to come from her.

Maerad made her excuses to Caine and left at once. She walked briskly, ever aware of the eyes watching her every move. She headed straight to Sansa's chambers and knocked firmly on the door. Sansa's soft voice called her in. Maerad entered, catching the eye of Sansa's maid. She bowed and left, leaving Maerad feeling slightly awkward. She hated it when people bowed to her, just as much as Robb hated being called 'Lord'. In what world are stablehands bowed to by chambermaids? Maerad knew that her friendship with the Starks made her an exception to the rule but she hated that privileged feeling.

Sansa spotted her through the mirror and turned to Maerad, beaming. It struck her in that moment, how much Sansa looked like her mother. With the light from the window bathing her red hair, she was the spitting image of Lady Catelyn.

"Maerad! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Maerad resisted the urge to groan. The common courtesies of Lord's and Ladies were completely lost on Maerad. She carried on regardless, refusing to correct Sansa on something that she regarded as just friendship.

"I'm sure you've heard by now that we are expecting Royal guests."

Sansa's face lit up. She had always been more open to her fate of becoming a Lady, however, she was becoming mildly obsessed with the Southern Courts. Maerad knew it was only natural to be attracted to the fineries and the wealth that the South provided. But Maerad's only worry was that if Sansa disappeared South to marry a rich Lord, Maerad would no longer be able to protect her. Sansa lived a very sheltered life compared to Arya and that was simply because Maerad felt she was not strong enough, mentally, to cope with... certain things. Maerad just prayed that she would grow out of it.

"Yes. I cannot wait!" Sansa bobbed up and down in her seat, "I hear Joffrey Baratheon is coming too." Maerad scoffed. She saw Sansa's face drop and quickly disguised it with a cough. Joffrey Baratheon was almost a whole year older than her and Robb and although she had never met him, Maerad could guess he was pretty much exactly the same as any young man from the South. Obsessed with power and welath. Not to mention, he had Lannister in his blood; the richest family in Westeros. This immediately put him at a disadvantage in Maerad's opinion. Joffrey's abundance of money meant that he didn't understand what it was like for a common person to be poor or go hungry, or watch their mother die of starvation. He was nothing that made Maerad want to support him.

"Well, their arrival means that things between us will have to change." Sansa raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Why, Lady Maerad?"

Maerad didn't disguise her groan this time.

"Starting with that. You can no longer call me 'Lady'."

"What?" Sansa stood up.

"Don't argue with me. It would be disrespectful. I am only a stablehand after all."

Sansa flopped back onto her chair. Maerad leaned against her bedpost.

"You must be on your best behaviour. Promise me?"

Sansa nodded. Maerad realised that she had slipped into her 'older sister' tone accidentally. She didn't correct it though, it seemed to be effective.

"Good. If you see me, refer to me only as Maerad. Not Mae or Lady. We must act as if we are not friends."

Sansa nodded once more. Maerad noticed that her maid hadn't finished Sansa's hair. Maerad rolled her eyes and turned Sansa to the mirror. As she began fixing the maid's mess, there was a gentle knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Sansa called over her shoulder.

The silky smooth voice of Lady Catelyn Stark replied with, "Only your mother."

"Of course. Come in, come in!" Maerad didn't take her gaze from the back of Sansa's head as she twirled a lock of hair and pinned it back. She heard the door open and close.

"Ah, Maerad. Do you mind?" Lady Stark politely asked for some privacy, waiting a comfortable distance away.

"No, not at all." Maerad smiled as she finished with Sansa's hair. She stepped back and nodded to Lady Catelyn, "I was just finished anyway." Catelyn and Maerad shared a friendly smile. Maerad started walking out when she felt Catelyn grab her arm. They locked eye contact.

"No matter what happens, just remember that you are always welcome in my home." Maerad heard a sad twinge in Catelyn's voice. Something about her was odd. Maerad couldn't quite place it.

Maerad quickly said her goodbyes and left. She made her way through the hallways slowly, pondering over what had just happened. Things had always been frosty between Catelyn and Maerad. Maerad didn't know if it was because she was too close to Robb or because she was just a stablehand. Maerad knew that Catelyn disapproved of Jon and of Jon and Robb's relationship. Maerad didn't understand why but then again she wasn't married.

But Catelyn had bever been too pleased with Maerad having full reign of Winterfell. So why she was welcoming Maerad into her home now, was completely lost on Maerad.

Maybe Maerad was just being paranoid. To anyone else, it may have seemed as though Catelyn was being polite. To Maerad, it sounded like a warning.

Catelyn knew something. And she sure as seven hells wasn't going to tell Maerad if she did.

* * *

A chilly, Northern breeze swept in through the open window, billowing around Maerad's face and sending a shiver down her spine. Maerad pulled the blanket up to her chin, shielding herself from the cold. Night had slowly crept in and the sky beyond Maerad's window was a silky, smooth midnight blue.

Maerad's head was still spinning over Lady Catelyn's cryptic words. Even after an entire week, she still didn't know what to make of it. The royal party would arrive tomorrow according to her father. In the morning, he would ride out to meet them and guide them to Winterfell.

Maerad's suspicions that Catelyn knew something had been confirmed when she ran into Jon at the training ground. Apparently, the King's Hand, Jon Arryn had passed away and the King was yet to name a new one. Jon didn't know what to make of the whole scenario; He probably didn't even care. But Maerad had her suspicions. Her list of reasons for the King's visit had just shrunk dramatically.

Maerad suspected that her job was to become extremely arduous over the next few days. The other stableboys would handle the King's procession as they arrived, leaving Maerad to welcome their guests with the rest of Winterfell. Maerad had vowed that if any of the King's men or women confused her for a maid, she would start slitting throats and gutting men sooner than she would like to.

Maerad had no issue with maids; some of her best friends were maids. Other than her gender and class, she had nothing in common with them - and she was pretty certain that in most households, a maid was much more respected than a stablehand - for starters, Maerad never wore a dress. In fact, Maerad didn't even own one.

As Maerad stared into the distance, trying to let sleep drag her thoughts away from violence on her soon-to-be guests, she heard a voice at the door. Maerad sat bolt upright. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maerad pondered whether someone knew of her thoughts of murder but quicker disgarded that as she never spoke them out loud. Again, a clod breeze swept in through the window. Maerad ignored it and listened closer.

A voice whispered, "Maerad."

Maerad jumped. She recovered her voice to calmly reply, "Who's there?" In reality, her heart was still racing ten to the dozen.

The same voice replied, "Your favourite Stark."

Maerad laughed and rolled her eyes. She slid out of her bed and crossed the room gracefully, sliding the latch to unlock the door. As she did so she teased, "Jon?"

The door opened slightly and Robb Stark's head appeared around the side. He frowned and playfully stuck his tongue out at her.

"Are you alone?" He asked. Maerad's face dropped into a scowl.

"It's the middle of the night, Robb. Of course I'm alone."

"Sorry. Just making sure." With that, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Maerad walked over to the window and closed it forcefully. The window was old and would jam if you weren't strong enough. As a child, Maerad was terrified that if she opened the window, she would never get it closed again and so she refused to open it. It didn't matter too much as Winterfell was always well ventilated.

Robb and Maerad didn't say a word but took their usual positions next to each other on her bed. Maerad felt nostalgia rush over her in a wave.

When they were children, Robb would sneak into her room at night and they would talk for hours. The next day, neither would speak of it, fearing what each others parents would do if they found out. Robb was worried that if Catelyn discovered them together, she would take it out on Maerad's parents. As they got older, the visits became more frequent and Robb started to fall asleep in her room. He was an early riser so was always out before anyone could see them together in the morning. They became each others confidant, telling each other things that they would never tell anybody else.

The visits stopped completely a couple of years ago after Robb had an argument with his mother over a possible marriage to a nearby bannerman's daughter. He had visited her that night but not once since.

It was in that moment, as Maerad leant against Robb's shoulder, Maerad realised what Catelyn meant. Before too long, Robb would have a wife to share those moments with. Catelyn was saying that Maerad would always have a place in _her _home. Not Robb's. The same place as her mentor and friend, Caine. The stables.

Maerad fell asleep in Robb's arms, haunted by the knowledge that her life was to remain as boringly simple as it was now.

* * *

Maerad pushed her way through the gathering crowd looking for a friendly face. Many people from the nearby towns had flooded to Winterfell to see the King arrive. It meant that the otherwise subdued streets were bustling like a bee hive. Maerad politely squeezed past a young family, apologising as she knocked over a young girl. The girl started to cry and Maerad heard the girl's father call out his abuse to her. Maerad gritted her teeth and braced herself to confront the angry man.

However, before she could turn around, she heard a familiar sleazy voice say, "Oi! Sir. Yes, you. Be careful who you talk to. That's Maerad Cassel. And my name is Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. Now I suggest you shut your trap and provide a good example to our guests." Maerad rolled her eyes. It was just like Theon to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

Theon came up behind her and put a firm hand on her shoulder, "Coming to stand with us, Maerad?" Before she could reply, Theon's grip tightened and he started leading her away. Maerad tugged against him but Theon was a lot stronger than he looked. She relented and allowed him to guide her through the evergrowing throng.

Eventually, she saw her Great Uncle Rodrick stood behind the Starks and walked over to him, Theon finally releasing his grip on her shoulder. She respectfully slid in next to Rodrick, and he smiled at her.

"Decided to join us, Mae?" Maerad didn't respond just caught the eye of Theon on his other side. She shot him a look that said "Say nothing of what happened with the child." Theon just smiled slyly but kept his mouth shut.

It seemed childish but if Rodrick heard that she knocked a child over and Theon threatened the father, then there would be hell to pay for both of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Maerad spotted some young children playing with a pile of hay. Maerad groaned. She didn't take kindly to children that couldn't sit still when they should be. Arya used to be like that, in fact some would say that she still was, but Maerad knew that all Arya needed was a bit of interest in something and she would do it for hours.

Just as the children were being told off swiftly by their mother, Jory trotted through the gates, announcing the presence of the King's procession. All at once, the crowd of Winterfell stood up a little straighter. The first to come through were the Kingsguard, one of whom was wearing a large helmet in the shape of a lion's head. Accompanied with a golden cloak and the Lannister colours on his horse, Maerad knew it was the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. As if to prove her right, he removed his helmet revealing a strong, lean face and long blonde hair. He also wore a smug smile to match. _Yes. _Maerad thought, _definitely a Lannister._

Following the Kingsguard was the King and an intricately decorated carriage. King Baratheon was a short, fat man, and appeared to be crushing the poor horse that was carrying him. Maerad guessed that the Queen and her children were in the carriage along with her maids. The carriage itself was a beautiful combination of gold and red, with intricate patterns embossed on the sides. It epitomised the wealth and snobbishness of the South. Maerad hated it.

Behind the carriage, a young man with golden hair rode. He wore no gold cloak so Maerad guessed he was the oldest, Joffrey. Maerad promised that she wouldn't judge him too quickly. Then she saw him flash Sansa a smile. Maerad's cordiality dissipated. It was not a polite smile of a man who has been graced into the home of someone else. It was the smile of a predator. He was making his claim. The subtext was easy to figure out. Sansa and Joffrey would likely be betrothed and that smile was Joffrey's way of saying, "She'll do quite nicely." First impressions were key with Maerad. If she didn't like someone on their first meeting, she would most likely never like him. Gut feelings were usually the cause.

No, Maerad didn't like him at all.

The royal procession dismounted and the whole of Winterfell bowed to their royal overlords. When Eddard was commanded to stand, so did Winterfell. The two families exchanged hellos and polite introductions and reunions.

The pleasantries between Lord Stark and King Robert ended abruptly when he demanded to be taken to the crypts. It was a strange request, one that only his wife, Cersei seemed to question. King Robert ignored her and Lord Stark took him to the crypts. The rest of the crowd seemed to disperse, except for the Starks and the few higher up of their advisers. And Maerad and Theon. Theon was ordered to show some guests to their quarters. Rodrick disappeared to help Maester Luwin with the Queen and her children. Catelyn wondered off to start preparations for the night's feast.

Eventually, the only people left near the gate were the Stark children and Maerad. Maerad made her excuses and left, not wanting to talk about their not so friendly visitors and guessing that Caine could do with a spare hand in the stables. The royal entrance had screamed of hostile and dangerous intent. Maerad hadn't seen a single genuinely friendly face.

As she walked away, Maerad had another gut feeling, one that told her that their visit wasn't going to end well.

**Please Review! They make me smile :) (Even constructive criticism ;)) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N So this chapter is going to be longer than usual but that shouldn't matter too much. I actually really enjoyed this chapter, I wrote it after re-reading this part of the book so I was kind of in the 'GoT mood'. Moving swiftly on, there's a lot that crams into this chapter so bare with it. Hopefully you will enjoy! :) Please Read and review :) **

Chapter 4

It was late afternoon and Maerad had finished up her chores for the day. It had been long and arduous work and she could feel the ache in her lower back as she walked down the corridor towards her chambers.

Her mind drifted to the night before as she walked, remembering the touch of Robb's hand on her shoulder and the electric heat that passed between them. At the time, Maerad had barely noticed, focusing more on the fact that her best friend was sat beside her, both silently comforting each other before the world that they took for granted was to be shattered by their guests.

She found it odd seeing him from a distance earlier that day. She was used to him with a bit of scruff along his jawline, but today he was clean-shaven. Also, she could not approach him like she usually did and talk to him in the same way. There were members of the royal party everywhere and Maerad knew how Catelyn would react if the royals heard rumours of the oldest Stark boy with a stable hand.

Maerad broke her reverie with a swift shake of her head and she turned onto the corridor that held her room and a few guest rooms.

She was immediately struck by a small man with golden hair. She recognised him instantly as Tyrion Lannister. Maerad inwardly sighed.

The last thing she needed today was a confrontation with the smart-mouthed, whippet of a man. It didn't help that he was a Lannister, but then again, nobody chooses their family.

Maerad recovered quickly and bowed politely to the man.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." Tyrion glanced at her curiously. He clearly was waiting to see if that was a reference to his height. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was a dwarf. Tyrion stared her down, as if challenging her to make an ill-mouthed quip. Maerad simply stared back, her face as neutral as possible. She honestly didn't care how tall he was.

Tyrion quickly gave up the staring contest, "Never mind, my dear. It was a blind corner and I am used to being trampled on by taller women."

Maerad had a feeling he was referring to his older sister, the Queen Cersei.

"Very well, then." Maerad stepped out of his way and proceeded down the hall. She felt his eyes on her as she walked. As she came to her door, she realised that he was still watching her. Maerad turned to face him.

"Is there something you wish to say?" Maerad bit back from making her question too harsh.

"I'm just curious, really." Tyrion started walking towards her, "A woman like you, how do you have a room in the guest wing of the castle?"

"And what do you mean by 'a woman like me'?" Maerad was losing her patience and could feel her back twitching for some rest.

"I mean that, and I'm just guessing by the smell of horse shit, you are a stablehand. I'm pretty sure that the other stablehands don't sleep in the guest wing. What makes you so special?" Tyrion gave her a once over, his eyes lingering a little too long at her breasts for her liking.

"It's none of your posh, Southern business." Maerad snapped.

"Oh, you're a feisty one!" Tyrion laughed, "Actually, I do recall stories of a young girl who had been taken in to the Stark family. But the rumours all said that she was far prettier than you. It couldn't be you, could it?"

Tyrion was fishing and Maerad was not about to take a bite.

"Mind you, maybe it's all that dirt from the stables that is covering that beautiful face of yours and I can't tell just how stunning you are."

"If you know who I am, then you also know my father."

"Oh, yes. The fearsome Jory Cassel. Best fighter that Winterfell has. I'm not scared of him. You clearly know who _I_ am; therefore you must know _my_ brother."

Maerad figured the only way to get rid of him was to win this game once and for all.

"I'm guessing he's the one with golden hair that _doesn't_ smell of whores and ale." Maerad watched Tyrion's eyes light up, with what she couldn't tell.

"Seriously though," Maerad continued, "I know your brother. I also know that he earned his name by stabbing a man in the back. Strange really, I heard he was such an excellent fighter that surely he could stab a mad man without him having to turn away from the sword. Sounds like a coward to me." Maerad saw Tyrion open his mouth but continued over the top of him.

"As for you, you should get cleaned up. You are guests at Winterfell and I'm sure your fearsome, older brother wouldn't like it if I let you show up stinking like you do. That would be bad manners on my part." Maerad turned to open her door. Just as she stepped inside, she turned to face the gobsmacked Tyrion once again.

"Oh and about my father? You were wrong. He isn't the best fighter in Winterfell. I am. And I would remember that for if we ever meet again." Maerad slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Maerad got washed and ready for the feast alone, making her wonder why Ladies needed maids to do it for them. It wasn't as though they were so unintelligent that they couldn't use their hands properly. Maerad shook her head exasperatedly. Some things she would never understand about being a Lady.

Sansa had picked out what Maerad would be wearing to the feast. Maerad was bad when it came to dresses and anything fashionable and Sansa was happy to help. She had chosen a simple dress. Nothing too elegant, that might make it obvious where she got the dress from, but classy enough that Maerad felt completely uncomfortable wearing it. It was a slightly small fit, intended for Sansa to wear once she grew taller. It was a dark purple and fit to Maerad's curves. The dress was also not too grandiose so that Maerad still looked like a stablehand and not a Lady.

She made her way down to the Great Hall alone and took her place at the table next to the kitchen, next to Jon. He lifted his head lazily in recognition and gave her a half-smile. He was drunk. Maerad rolled her eyes at him.

The Great Hall was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. The banners of three Great Houses draped the walls: Lannister, Stark and Baratheon. The Stark children were seated on a table of their own with the princes and princess, below the raised platform where Lord and Lady Stark accompanied the King and Queen. The room was filled with the chorus of hundreds of different conversations, most of them by drunken men.

Maerad idly ate her way through the meal until she was full and couldn't stand the sound of the squire's voices on her table. Jon was getting more and more drunk by the second, nobody could tell him to stop as no-one held the courage to tell the bastard son of Ned Stark to do anything.

By the fourth hour, Maerad was sick of the Great Hall and wanted to do nothing else but leave. However, she stayed to keep watch over Jon, worried that his intoxicated state would lead him to start throwing punches. He was joining in heartily with the conversations at their table but every now and then, he would look over to the Stark children. It was brief and to anyone else it would have been nothing more than a passing glance. But Maerad knew him better than that. She saw the distraught jealousy in his eyes. She knew that he wished to be sat with Robb and Arya more than anything. Maerad didn't blame him; she did too. But they had to know their place.

As Jon finished another glass, Maerad came to a conclusion. She leaned over to put her lips next to Jon's ear.

"Get out of the Hall, Jon." She turned away and carried on swirling around the liquid at the bottom of her glass. Jon looked over at her.

"Why should I?" His reply was barely audible over the roar of the Hall.

Maerad simply mouthed back, "You know why," and gestured towards the Stark table.

Jon gritted his teeth and nodded. He rose from the table and left the hall without another word.

Maerad suddenly felt a cold shiver pass through her as if a ghost had just walked by. She glanced towards the Stark's and saw the reason for her shiver. Catelyn was fixing her with a cold, calm glare. Maerad made a mental note to never get on the wrong side of Catelyn. Something told her that her bite was worse than her bark. Almost the instant that they locked eye contact, Catelyn looked away, and carried on as if nothing had happened. In her line of sight, Maerad saw Arya flick food at Sansa. Maerad rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself as Robb lifted Arya up easily and frogmarched her to her room.

Maerad watched the people in the Great Hall until her head started to spin. She took this as her signal to leave. As she made her way out of the Hall, she somehow caught eyes with Jaime Lannister. He smirked at her, giving her the same once over that his brother had just hours before. Maerad shuddered and quickly escaped before the Kingslayer could see her cheeks redden.

Maerad let her feet carry her, not concerned with where she ended up. She found herself at the pond in the Godswood. She sat down on the tree branch and took in the silence and beauty of the scenery. It was while she sat there that Maerad realised how much time she spent alone. She finally understood why. She was used to it. Silence was golden and the only true silence that Maerad could ever get was when she was alone. She found it peaceful. Maybe that's what her life should be like. She was a loner; and good at it. Maerad got so much more work done in the stables if she was left alone.

Maerad was unsure what this meant for her in the long term. She just knew that Ladies were rarely left alone and Maerad was pretty certain that she would hate that.

* * *

The next few days went by torturously. Maerad worked in the stables from dawn till dusk and even when the work was done, she would linger in the stables, talking idly to the horses. It granted her some strange looks from passers-by but she didn't care. She was in the stables when Bran was brought in by a rider. He was unconscious and all Maerad could remember was the way his body hung limply in Caine's arms. Looking back on it, Maerad mostly saw a blur but remembered having to sit down and watching uselessly as Caine carried Bran away to Maester Luwin.

Maester Luwin said that the good part was that he had lived. Whether or not he was going to walk again was another thing entirely. Just the thought of Bran being disabled made Maerad sick.

She could remember Bran's first steps, first words, and the first thing he ever climbed. Maerad had looked out for him since the day he was born as though he truly was a younger brother. Now, going to see him was heart-breaking. Lady Catelyn hadn't left his side in days. She slept in there and didn't leave even when people came to visit Bran and wanted to be alone. Maerad didn't like seeing her that way. As much tension as there was between them, seeing Catelyn's grief was just as bad as the idea of Bran never waking up.

The Starks were all subdued from that day on. Despite trying to talk, Robb and Maerad had nothing to talk about. Their walks were filled with awkward silences and were shorter than normal. However, one thing had changed. Every night since Bran's accident, Robb had visited her chambers and they had slept side by side. He was always gone before she woke up and was left questioning whether or not it had even happened but she knew that it had. Nothing happened between them, and neither wanted anything to happen between them. They simply wanted the comfort of each other.

It was a busy day; Jon had visited Maerad to let her know that he was going to be riding for the Wall. He was taking the Black. Maerad was happy for him. He finally knew what he wanted. He wasn't going to live in Robb's shadow anymore. News of Ned Stark had quickly spread around Winterfell. He was riding south to become the King's Hand. Maerad was unsure about this. With him gone, it meant that Robb had all of his father's responsibilities, which meant that she would see Robb a lot less. Sansa and Arya were going south too. She would miss them and had made them both a gift to say goodbye. It was going to be a lot quieter in Winterfell with so many people leaving.

As Maerad finished brushing Ned's horse, she saw her father, Jory approach. She grinned at him and he nodded back.

"Hey, Mae. I need to talk to you." Jory's tone was unexpected. She turned to face him and saw that he was wearing a grim expression.

"Ok. Let me just finish here." Maerad grabbed Ned's reigns and led him back into the stables. After putting the brush away, Maerad grabbed a damp rag and started scrubbing her hands.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"There's something that you need to know." Maerad raised an eyebrow. Jory took her expression as a cue to go on.

"When Lord Stark goes south to King's Landing, I will be going too."

Maerad couldn't believe it. Jory was captain of the guard for House Stark. Not just Ned.

"But what about us?"

"It's part of my duty to the Starks, Maerad. You need to understand that. I can't stay here all the time. Ned needs me in King's Landing."

"How selfish! What about Robb? Who's going to take over while you're gone?"

"It's not selfish. He wants me there to help protect Sansa and Arya. I thought you of all people would understand that." Jory's voice was raised now and Maerad knew that he was upset.

"I understand, Father. Really, I do." Maerad fixed him with a cold hard glare, "I just wished that you would put family first, after all, look at what happened to Mother." Maerad saw Jory flinch and his glare hardened. She had hit him hard.

"Nikolai is taking over from me." With that, Jory turned and stormed away, not even saying goodbye.

Maerad felt bad for what she said. She remembered what happened last time they had that argument.

_"But Father can't Lord Stark take some other of the Guard? He doesn't need you does he?" Maerad buried her face in Jory's furs._

_"Ned Stark wants to come home safely, that's all." Jory stroked Maerad's soft, brown hair gently. They were sat on Maerad's bed, Maerad curled up in Jory's lap._

_"But what if the risk of him coming home safely is your life?" Jory was struck by how grown up that conclusion was. Maerad was only 8 years old. She didn't yet understand what duty meant to a man of the Guard. _

_"It's a risk I have to take. Besides, if I didn't go, who would protect Ned and get him back safely to Robb. I am the best fighter in Winterfell after all. You wouldn't want Robb to become a Lord now, at such a young age. You'd miss him."_

_"I'd miss you too, Father." _

_"Maerad, please try to understand."_

_Maerad pulled away from Jory and stood up opposite him, "I don't want to lose you. I already lost Mother. You left then too. If you hadn't gone then, she would still be alive."_

_"You think I don't know that!" Jory felt his anger rise uncontrollably. It was a cruel thing to say to a young girl but he couldn't help it. Maerad pushed his buttons as if she was a grown woman. Every day he looked into her eyes and saw the woman that he left behind. _

_Jory decided to remove himself from the situation to prevent any more damage._

_"I have to go, Maerad and I am. The sooner you realise this, the better." _

_And with that, he was gone._

Nothing bad had happened when he left that time. But he was only gone for a week. This time he would be gone indefinitely and Maerad didn't know if she could handle losing another parent.

* * *

Maerad had stormed off soon after her confrontation with Jory, leaving Caine to deal with the horses. She found herself in the training yard with a sword in her hand. Not wooden this time. The yard was surprisingly empty and Maerad relished it.

She realised quickly that the sword she held was not from Winterfell. She looked dumbly down at the hilt. It was gold plated, a sign of wealth (Maerad's gut churned), and encrusted into the hilt was a lion's head. It was a Lannister sword. Maerad was glad that she was alone then as if anyone saw her using a Lannister sword, there would be definite consequences.

Maerad unsheathed the sword and walked slowly towards the dummy. With every step, she could feel her anger rise until the only thing left was to swing the sword. The sword was light but long and easy to handle. She lifted the sword to her right and threw her weight behind the strike.

Maerad carried on hitting the dummy for several minutes until her anger had completely subsided. Maerad felt a drop of sweat on her brow and wiped it away.

_Clap, clap, clap. _Maerad swivelled round to face whoever was clapping. Maerad suppressed her groan. Across the training yard, Jaime Lannister was walking slowly towards her, a cocky smile plastered on his face. The way he walked struck fear through her. It was positively predatory.

"Very well done, m'lady." Jaime stopped about a swords length away from her.

"I'm not a Lady. As I'm sure you can tell." Maerad gestured to her trousers.

Jaime Lannister laughed. His laugh was like velvet, soft and refined.

"No, of course not. Ladies don't wear trousers. Stablehands though…"

Maerad felt her heart jump. He knew who she was. Then why was he playing games?

"What do you want, Lannister?" She was fed up of playing polite to Lannister men.

"Oh, nothing much. My sword back for a start." Jaime indicated nonchalantly to the sword in Maerad's hand. Maerad raised an eyebrow.

Holding his gaze steady, she replied, "What about that sword on your belt? Did you steal that one?"

"Yes."

Maerad scoffed.

"From you." Maerad frowned and looked more closely. She realised with a start that it was, in fact, her sword.

"Where did you get that?"

Jaime waved it off.

"Does it matter?"

"If you've been going through the personal possessions of women you don't know, then yes, I think it does matter."

"Very well." Jaime turned and stalked away, "Keep my sword. You use it better anyway."

"Wait!" Maerad kicked herself inwardly. She didn't want that jackass to be around any longer, "Why would you give a stranger your sword? It's Valyrian steel. I'm just a stablehand."

Jaime sheathed her sword from his belt. He turned slowly and started walking back towards her. Before she knew it, Jaime was slamming his sword down on her skull. She pulled up the sword just in time to defend herself. She pushed the blade away from her forehead and swung at his knees. He dodged easily but Maerad was two steps ahead of him. As he backed away, she brought the sword up quickly and sung it twice more, one missing and the other being blocked by Jaime.

He wanted a fight and he was going to get one.

Maerad recovered well and blocked two more of Jaime's attacks. Maerad went to swing her blade again, Jaime prepared to block but Maerad faked the swing and instead slammed all of her body into Jaime knocking him onto the ground. She knocked the sword from his hand and grabbed the knife from her boot. She slammed it against his neck. She was extremely conscious of the fact that she was straddling him now but didn't show it.

"I yield." Jaime laughed. Maerad was confused. He was just beaten by a girl and he was laughing. Maerad got up quickly, not taking her eyes off of him for a second.

He stood up groggily and continued to laugh.

"The reason I let you keep my sword? That. Right there." Maerad must have looked confused as he carried on. "The man that made that sword said that he made that sword for the greatest swordfighter in the Seven Kingdoms. I've fought a lot of men in my time, but never has any of them tricked me and end up straddling me on the floor with a knife against my throat. It wouldn't be right to keep the sword for the greatest swordfighter in the Seven Kingdoms, away from the greatest swordfighter in the Seven Kingdoms."

Jaime picked up Maerad's old sword and left, leaving behind a very baffled Maerad.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. I was enjoying a break and now that I'm back at school (doing A-levels. Woo.) I seem to have some free periods with nothing to do. So I decided to revisit my favourite fantasy TV series fan fiction :) You're welcome. **

**Also, on a side note, if any of you (which I doubt) have read my Supernatural fanfic, I won't be updating that any longer because it was terrible and I hated it. But I like this one, so it's staying. **

**Apologises for the middle part where I skip a load of time and sort of go briefly over what happened to Bran, but let's face it, Maerad wasn't there for those parts so she wouldn't really have much to say about them. But please criticise me as much as you like, but do it nicely :) I like getting reviews they make me happy. **

**Out of curiosity, if any of you want to become a beta-reader for this story, please just drop me a message. I'm looking for someone that knows GoT well and can correct me on any details I get wrong, (Preferably if you write some of your own) and if you are good at spotting spelling and grammar mistakes. I'm a lazy person so don't usually proof-read my work and I know how much it annoys me to read errors in other people's writing, so I would love for someone to point those out to me and correct them if necessary. You don't have to, it was just a thought as I'm quite busy at the moment with school and someone pestering me to do something would be good for me. **

Chapter 5

Maerad left her chambers swiftly, searching every hallway for a Stark face to appear. It was literally moments before the party would all leave to go South and Maerad still hadn't said all of her goodbyes. She knocked on Sansa's door, a last ditch effort to find them. There was no reply. Panting now, she headed back out into the biting breeze of Winterfell.

Maerad was still reeling from her encounters with the Lannisters. After finding out what had happened between her and Tyrion Lannister, Ser Rodrik had made her apologise in an overly formal manner for her rudeness. Her father wasn't present for the scolding she received. Maerad knew that Ser Rodrik must have told her Father but after their conversation the other day, it didn't surprise Maerad that he hadn't shown his face. She just hoped that he understood that she was being irrational. After all, they were still father and daughter.

Down near the main gate, Maerad saw the party getting ready to leave. She frantically scanned the crowd, searching for her father's stern face and the Stark daughters. As much as she strained to spot them, they were nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for someone?" Maerad turned and frowned. Jon's curly haired head greeted her with a friendly smile.

"Jon. No, I mean, not really, I just," Maerad stammered over her words. Jon raised an eyebrow. She sighed, "I'm going to miss you in Winterfell, Jon."

Jon lowered his head, "I'm going to miss you too. But there is no life for me here. I belong at the Wall. With the Night's Watch."

"I wish that wasn't true." The two stood in silence for a brief moment, contemplating their childhood spent causing havoc together. Out of the corner of her eye, Maerad spotted Eddard Stark walking towards his horse. Maerad decided to jump the sword and go straight to the head of the House. At least he could get Sansa's and Arya's presents to them before they leave.

"I'm sorry, Jon. Good luck with your future." Maerad pulled the taller boy into a massive hug. "Please, please don't forget to remember us."

"I won't."

"And whatever you do, don't get yourself killed." Maerad felt herself choke as she thought of Jon laying in the snow, bleeding out with no family around him to comfort him in his last moments. Maerad bit back the tears. That was the life he chose. He was joining a new family now. But Maerad would always consider him a friend. Even when the days passed and they didn't speak for years and they assume each other dead.

After saying their last goodbyes, Maerad walked over to Lord Stark. He saw her approaching and politely smiled and greeted her like an old friend.

"My dear Maerad."

"Eddard Stark." Maerad suppressed the urge to call him Lord and bow.

"Please, Mae. You've known me long enough now to call me Ned." Maerad laughed.

"Yes, I guess that's true. I need to ask you for a favour."

Ned looked taken aback but didn't say anything, simply stayed silent to allow her to continue.

"I need you to apologise to my Father for me." Ned smiled knowingly.

"Ah, of course."

"Did he tell you what happened?" It wouldn't have surprised her if he had. Ned simply nodded.

"I'm sorry. It was selfish. I didn't mean what I said, I just have a bit of a temper."

Ned smiled, "Yes, I know. So did your mother, you know?"

"She did?" Maerad was shocked. Jory never really spoke about her character much, but everyone she asked always said the same thing. _You two could be twins, it's uncanny. _Maerad never felt that way. After her Mother dying so young, she never felt that close or that similar to her mother. She wished she knew more and it surprised her that Ned knew her so well.

"Yes, she did. Quite famous for it actually. It got her in trouble many times. I will apologise to your father for you. But there's something you must remember about Jory."

"What?"

"He cannot hold a grudge, for starters. But most importantly? The one thing that he lives for, that he fights for every time he has to draw a sword? Is not me. He may hold an oath to protect me, that is his duty. But you are the only one that he loves. Everything he does, he does to ensure that you can live in freedom and happiness. Do not forget that."

Maerad felt yet another tear swelling in her eyes. "Thank you, Ned."

"Do not thank me, Maerad. Just say goodbye to me and promise that we'll see each other once more."

"Of course we will. This is our home, and I have no intention of letting you die down there in that rotten place." Maerad smiled at Ned. He laughed and returned a friendly wink.

"Now, go and give my daughter's their gifts. Arya has been itching about them all day." Ned waved to someone behind Maerad and she turned to see little Arya Underfoot running at a tremendous speed towards her.

"Mae!"

"Arya. I've been looking for you all day. I hear you want your present?"

Arya slammed on the breaks just inches from Maerad and put on an angelic face, "Do I? I don't know where you got that idea." Maerad and Ned laughed simultaneously.

"Okay, allow me." Maerad reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of plain cloth. She handed it to Arya, who grabbed it in both hands and anxiously pulled away the cloth. Wrapped inside was a small, engraved, silver bangle with Arya's nickname worked into it, _Underfoot. _Arya jumped up and down giddily.

"It's beautiful, Mae. Thank you." Arya wrapped her arms around Maerad's waist.

"Your welcome. Just a little thing to remember me by." Maerad leaned in to Arya's face, "And don't worry, you don't have to wear it."

"Oh thank god!" Maerad laughed. She knew Arya hated jewellery.

"It was specially designed so that it clips perfectly onto the present that Jon got you." Maerad was careful not to specify. Her and Jon were the only ones that knew about Arya's new sword and she had promised to keep it a secret from Ned and Catelyn. Which was hard to do what with Ned being stood behind her watching their every move.

"It's great, Mae. I'll look after it, don't worry." Arya winked emphatically. Maerad laughed at the little girl's antics. She would miss Arya especially.

The two embraced and said their goodbyes.

After giving Sansa her new necklace with a direwolf on, Maerad was called to the stables to help clean up. She passed Jaime on her way there and they gave each other a nod of recognition. She never saw her father, but hoped that Jory understood that she regretted what was said.

The party left soon after Maerad did.

* * *

Two days later, Maerad found herself being followed by Rickon, the youngest Stark. He looked completely and utterly lost without his Mother. Catelyn had still not left Bran's side and after Ned left, it got worse. She stopped taking care of everyone that needed her, even herself. Maester Luwin came across Maerad and Rickon and offered to take him out of the way. Maerad quickly thanked him and forgot about the incident. Until the day after when Robb became the one Rickon was following. After a frantic conversation, Robb decided to step up and take the place of his father while Ned was in King's Landing.

Maerad had been woken up by people running in the corridor outside her room. She stuck her head out of the door and asked one of the passers-by what was happening.

"There's a fire in one of the buildings!"

Maerad followed the crowd hurriedly. At the source of the commotion, many of the remaining Guards were throwing buckets of water on the fire being helped by many of the other men of Winterfell, including Robb. It took a long time but the fire was put out and the crowd all went back to their jobs and beds.

It wasn't until the next day that Maerad discovered that someone had gotten into Bran's room and tried to kill him. If it wasn't for Bran's direwolf, Lady Catelyn and Bran would both be dead.

Robb later told her that Catelyn believed it was a conspiracy and that somebody pushed Bran off of the tower, he didn't fall. Maerad wasn't going to lie, it was very far-fetched. Lady Catelyn left later that day, escorted by Ser Rodrik and Robb took control of Winterfell.

* * *

As if Maerad didn't see Robb enough already, with his new duties, she didn't see him at all. Maerad started spending her free time walking the castle and the other areas outside of Winterfell. At night though, her first stop was to Bran's room.

Maerad found herself sat beside his bed stroking his direwolf gently, when Maerad had a thought. When Bran was a baby, he used to have trouble sleeping at night. Catelyn would make Maester Luwin give him things to help him sleep but it rarely worked. Maerad could hear him crying from her room and would come in and comfort him and sing to him. She always sang the same song and did so, up until about a year ago when he announced he was too old for lullabies.

In an overwhelming motherly moment, Maerad felt herself start to sing to him again. It was a Northern song, one that her mother used to sing to her when she was a child and Maerad felt that it was fitting for such a moment. Maerad's soft voice filled the room.

_Of all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company,_

_And of all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me._

_And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall._

_So fill to me the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all._

Bran's direwolf pricked it's ears intently as she sang, listening closely to her every word and watching her out of the corner of it's eye. Maerad finished the song and sighed. She could see better than most the pain it was causing the Stark's that Bran was still unconscious. She just prayed that he would get better soon and that whoever did this to him was brought to justice. Maerad looked around blankly and decided it was late and probably best if she left. As Maerad was leaving, she heard the direwolf start to whine. Maerad thought nothing of it, simply shushed him and closed the door as she left.

Maerad started walking down the corridor when she heard a noise from inside Bran's room that sounded like a glass breaking. She paused. The rest of Winterfell was asleep, and Maerad knew that she hadn't confused the noise with something else. The castle was silent.

Fearing the worst, Maerad sprinted back to Bran's room and swung the door open, looking around frantically. Bran was laid on the bed staring back at her, unblinkingly. Maerad glanced at the direwolf and realised instantly how eerily alike the two were.

Maerad was surprised to say the least. Bran was awake! After a brief hesitation, Maerad called for a maid to fetch Maester Luwin.

While they were waiting for him, Maerad asked him if he could remember anything about his fall.

"I fell?" Bran was almost offended at the accusation.

"Yes, from one of the old towers."

"But, I never fall." Bran was too stubborn to believe it.

"Well, you did." Maerad allowed him a second to process. He tried to move himself around on the bed to get comfortable but winced and then stopped altogether.

"Are you in pain?" Bran nodded.

Maerad frowned. She didn't like the sound of that.

As she was about to say something to comfort him, Maester Luwin walked through the door, followed by a very tired and very worried, Robb. Luwin took one glance at Bran to make sure he was fully conscious and went about his business.

"Brandon, I need you to tell me how you feel."

"My back hurts."

"And your legs?"

"My legs are-" Bran froze. "I can't feel my legs. Why can't I feel my legs?" Bran started to panic. Maerad softly rubbed his check like his mother would probably do if she was there.

Luwin sighed and turned to the other people in the room.

"I'm going to need you all to leave so that I can properly assess Bran and update him on what has been happening while he has been unconscious. I cannot do that with other people butting in and I feel Brandon would be most comfortable with less people in the room.

Robb nodded but didn't move. Maerad almost rolled her eyes. The two brothers were ridiculously similar in their stubbornness. Maerad stood up and placed a tender hand on Robb's shoulder.

"Come on, let's go. There is no use for us in here." Robb met her eyes and Maerad felt her heart wrench. Their was such a pain in his eyes that only a brother could feel. At once, Maerad wondered if she would be the same if she had a brother of her own. Her thoughts went to Jon, probably already at the Wall and how he must be feeling after being away from his family.

Robb allowed Maerad to lead him out of the room. Once the door was closed, Robb went back to almost his usual self. His jaw gritted and he locked his gaze fiercely with Maerad's.

"I hope to the Gods that my Mother finds out who did this and they pay for what has happened."

"Trust me, if anyone can do that, it's Lady Catelyn."

* * *

Maerad grabbed Theon's cloak off the peg in the cloakroom of the stables and dropped it carelessly on the floor, into a big pile of horse manure. She plastered on a fake smile and walked into the main area of the stables where Theon stood waiting for her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Theon?" Maerad blinked flirtatiously.

Theon noticed and gulped.

"I umm... I need my horse getting ready."

"Why?" Maerad teased, slowly walking towards him.

"Because... Uh. Official Lord business. That's why." Theon lied, obviously trying to impress her.

Maerad got bored and caved.

"No, you don't. You want your horse, so you can ride little Mary Umber out to the Wolfswood and have a romantic little picnic so that you can get into her nice, little drawers."

Theon gritted his teeth. "Shut up, Maerad. What do you know about impressing a girl anyway."

"Well, spending all of my seventeen years as one has definitely not informed me well about what a girl wants AT ALL." Maerad rolled her eyes and trudged over to Theon's horse.

Theon sighed and ignored her while she tacked up the uneasy mare. Once she had finished, she led the horse out to the front of the stables, while Theon followed and helped him onto the horse.

They stood there for a second, awkwardly staring at one another.

"My cloak?" Theon demanded.

"Oh yes, of course!" Maerad turned and smiled to herself. Bringing out the cloak and holding it at an arms length, she handed the smelly, shit-covered cloak to Theon. He took it without thinking - or smelling - and wrapped it around his shoulders. Mid-way through trotting away, Theon turned to see Maerad giggling to herself uncontrollably.

"What's so-" Theon took a big whiff of the cool, crisp air. He cringed, "Where is that smell coming from?"

"You just came out of a stables, Theon, and just so happen to be on top of a horse. Where do you think it's coming from?" Maerad pulled herself together enough to reply.

"Oh." Theon shrugged and rode away, oblivious to the horse crap on the back of his cloak.

"Well, that'll be a nice surprise for him later." Maerad said out loud to herself. _Who am I kidding, he's so full of shit that he probably won't notice. _Maerad laughed to herself and went back to work mucking out the stables.

* * *

Later that night, Maerad went to sit in Bran's chambers to keep him company. Robb had come to find her earlier in the day and told them about the conversation that they had. Bran had asked if he was ever going to walk again, to which Robb replied, _No. _Bran had answered that he would have rather died in the fall. Robb was worried that Bran was feeling out-of-sorts and wanted Maerad to check up on him.

When she walked in, Bran greeted her with a familiar smile; but the smile did not reach his eyes. Maerad sat down next to him, wordlessly and Bran didn't press her for a hello. Maerad wasn't one for unnecessary formalities.

"I heard what you did to Theon earlier." Bran smiled. Maerad laughed.

"He told you?"

"No, Robb did. I was impressed, I would never have had the guts to do that."

"Yes, well. Me and Robb grew up with Theon. It's what we do. No doubt I'll find a spider under my pillow tonight or something much less inventive." Bran laughed.

"Aren't you worried about what he might do in return?"

"Who? Theon? The boy has a brain the size of a berry. The worst thing he has ever done to me was put horse manure in my boots. And that was after Jon gave him the idea. Thankfully, I noticed before I stuck my foot in them. That would have been awful. And Theon would be dead by now."

Bran laughed, more believably that time.

"Well, you never know with Theon. He may have gotten some good ideas since the last time."

"I would hope so. The 'horse manure in the boots' incident was almost 7 years ago."

"Really?"

"Yes. Why do you think you couldn't remember hearing that story. You were only three. Tiny."

Bran smiled and laughed. A comfortable silence filled the room. Bran stroked Summer's head gently and the direwolf laid its furry jaw on Bran's chest.

Maerad yawned, "I think it's time the two of us went to bed." Maerad made to stand up and leave. Bran reached out to stop her.

"Wait!" Maerad hesitated, "Will you sing the lullaby to me?" Maerad smiled. When he said those words, she was taken back to when he was just a small child, asking her to sing it for him every night, even though she was tired and falling asleep, barely a woman herself.

"Of course, Bran." Maerad sat back down and began to sing the same lullaby she sang to him on the night he woke up.

_Of all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company._  
_And of all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me._  
_And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall._  
_So fill to me the parting glass.  
__Goodnight and joy be with you all._

_Of all the comrades that e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away,_  
_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had, they would wish me one more day to stay,_  
_But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not,_  
_I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, "Goodnight and joy be with you all!"_

_A man may drink and not be drunk, a man may fight and not be slain_  
_A man may court a pretty girl and perhaps be welcomed back again_  
_But since it has so ordered been by a time to rise and a time to fall_  
_Come fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all_  
_Come fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all_

Maerad looked over to see Bran fast asleep and took that as her cue to leave.

**Thanks for reading guys :) I love that song and it sounds very Game of Thronesie, especially the Ed Sheeran version. Please, please, please leave a review, they are what gives me the love that I need to carry on writing this. If I didn't get reviews for it I would probably stop writing this and I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT! But don't feel like I'm forcing you into reviewing either... Anyway, Love you all, until the next time. **

**May the odds be ever in your favour. PEACE. Bye.**


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